A Brave Leap Into the Familiar
by Igorina
Summary: When two Unseen University undergraduates engage in a bit of inadvisible ritual. Albus Dumbledore discovers that 'the next great adventure' can have some surprising similiarities with what came before. Crossover with Harry Potter postHBP.


Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or settings to be found herein.

A/N: This is a ficlet I wrote shortly after HBP came out, but didn't get round to archiving at due to problems my computer seemed to be having with the site at the time.

-

Albus Dumbledore had never been the sort of wizard who was easily surprised.

He was therefore not unduly shocked when - following a quick flash of green light dished out courtesy of one Severus Snape - he found himself watching his corpus hurtling in a groundwards direction from a very great height.

On seeing what had just a few seconds ago been the mortal habitation of his immortal soul hit the stone below his first thought was of the mess likely to be made by said impact and how he hoped that the House Elves wouldn't have too much trouble cleaning it up. His second thought concerned the young man beside him, who'd just found himself released from a body bind curse. His third thought, which pertained to good and evil and the respective natures thereof, was interrupted in its infancy by the inescapable presence of a very tall and skeletal man wielding a scythe.

"Azrael?" he queried, a small smile curling the edges of his presently non-material lips.

AN ASPECT OF AZRAEL, YES. IF I RECALL CORRECTLY WE'VE MET BEFORE.

"Well, Fawkes does tend to die quite a lot."

INDEED.

"I don't suppose that there's any way I could remain here for a little longer? Just to see how things turn out."

From the inside of his cowl Death removed what looked like an hourglass. All of the sand within currently resided at the bottom.

YOU CAN REMAIN HERE FOREVER, OR NOT AT ALL.

"In that case I believe that it must be time for me to depart on the next great adventure." He sighed in a manner that was neither tired nor miserable, but which contained more than a trace of regret. "I just wish that there was more that I could have done for Harry."

YOU DID WHAT YOU COULD IN THE TIME ALLOTTED. Coming from Death this was no platitude, merely an observation.

"Onwards we go, then."

Had things gone to plan Albus Dumbledore would have found himself transported to the desert that we all, at some time or another, must cross. However, the multiverse is not known for its adherence to the idea that things should proceed in a sensible and orderly fashion; and it was at the exact moment in transdimensional temporality in which Death turned to go that two undergraduate students at the Unseen University decided – after an extremely vigorous nights drinking at the Mended Drum – to attempt the Rite of Ashe Enke.

Thus when Death materialised in the chalk circle bordered by a set of candles of the very dribbly variety, in an empty classroom(1), he was accompanied by a very old, yet seemingly very alive man, with a long white beard.

"It's the Hogfather," gasped one of the hapless wizards in training.

"No he's not, he's not wearing the right costume," said the other, slightly less awed, student.

Death looked – as far as a pair of seemingly empty sockets can look – from Dumbledore to the group of adventurous undergrads.

THIS IS MOST IRREGULAR. WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT?

"We were drunk," said the first student, by way of explanation.

" AND?"

"Well, we were drunk."

I FAIL TO SEE WHAT THIS FACT HAS GOT TO DO WITH YOUR DECISION TO INVOKE ME.

Both of the boys at once looked rather fearful. "We, er, were drunk and it seemed, um, like a good idea to see if it actually, you know, worked or not," blurted out the second student.

TO SEE IF WHAT WORKED?

Things would have likely continued in this vein of question and inarticulate response, were it not for the fact that a man carrying a contraption that looked like the bastard child of a crossbow and a cannon decided to barge into the room.

The first boy screamed.

The second very nearly fainted.

Dumbeldore's eyes, which seemed somehow still very much alive, twinkled. "Mustrum, is that you?"

The Archchancellor of the Unseen University very nearly dropped his new, state of the art, hunting device(2) in surprise. "Albus, what are you doing here? I haven't seen you for, what is it now, fifty, sixty years?"

"Sixty-five; the year that the Great Narrative Rift opened up in Soho. As to what I'm doing here, well, I seem to have died and found myself transported to this place."

"Ah, Ashe Enke gone wrong then, I see."

NOT WRONG PER SE. MORE… UNANTICIPATED.

Ridcully fixed his gaze on the two, now gibbering, students. "Davis, Poncenby-Ratter, get back to your rooms now. I'll deal with you both tomorrow."

With that the two young men gratefully fled the classroom.

"Students, eh," said Ridcully, shaking his head, "when will they learn not to use magic?"

"Well, you are running a school for wizards."

"Exactly, we've already got enough of the stuff roaming about without them adding to it. Well, I suppose all of this," Ridcully waved his arm at the circle, "helps to sort the wizards from the thaumatugists. Survival of the fittest and all that. And at least they managed not to cast themselves into The Dungeon Dimensions."

Dumbeldore frowned. "I can't help but think that you're methods of education are a little archaic."

"If I recall correctly," said Ridcully, with a sniff, "your old school doesn't have an accident free record. In fact I distinctly remember you actually encouraging your charges to go on adventures."

"But at least at Hogwarts we actually hold lessons."

Ridcully waved a dismissive hand. "So do we."

"But nobody ever turns up."

"Yes, but that doesn't negate the fact that the lessons are on the timetable. It can't be helped if nobody actually decides to attend."

THIS IS MOST UNPRECENDENTED.

Death, who had been waiting silently while Ridcully and Dumbledore defended their educational practices, held out the lifetimer marked Albus Dumbledore, which a few short moments ago had seemed devoid of activity. Now however the sand within seemed to be flowing up into the top of the hourglass. And, as if that wasn't peculiar enough, a square of yellow paper with slightly scrawled handwriting on, appeared to have stuck itself to the glass.

"What does it say?" demanded Ridcully, as Death pealed away the note.

IT SAYS: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, MOST LAUDED PROFFESSOR OF ACTUALLY TEACHING THINGS.

For a few moments neither Ridcully nor Dumbledore spoke. Eventually it was the Archchancellor who broke the silence. "Good to have you onboard then. Though I'm not sure that the rest of the faculty will take too kindly to all of those new fangled 'actual tutoring' ideas of yours."

"Well," said Dumbledore, taking a cautious step out of the circle and into the land of Ankh Morpork's living, "This really wasn't quite what I was expecting from my great leap into the unknown, but I'm sure that it will be a challenge, not to mention an adventure."

Ridcully clapped the hand that wasn't holding a lethal weapon on Dumbledore's shoulder and began to walk towards the door. "It probably all has something to do with that ineffability thing that they're all talking about these days. Well, on the days they're not talking about splitting the thaum that is."

EXCUSE ME, said Death, exuding an air of something that was almost irritation, GIVEN THAT THERE SEEMS TO BE NO FURTHER USE FOR ME HERE, COULD ONE OF YOU PLEASE BANISH ME. 

-

(1)Not that the Unseen University seemed to have many of the other type.

(2)He'd heard stories about fearsome wild beasts roaming certain areas of the Shades. Though this implied hope rather than expectation, as any big game unfortunate enough to find itself roaming about in this most colourful of neighbourhoods would be very lucky to last ten minutes without becoming lunch for a family of twelve.


End file.
